


Marriage Counseling for the Inept and Oblivious

by ToriCeratops



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Frottage, M/M, Oblivious Sam, terrible marriage counseling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 11:40:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1743386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToriCeratops/pseuds/ToriCeratops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or: How Steve Rogers likes to play matchmaker for his infuriating best friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marriage Counseling for the Inept and Oblivious

Sam would like to know how the hell this is his life.

No.  Wait.  Sam knows exactly how this is his life and it's on his fucking left.  

"There has got to be another way."  He groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.  

But Steve just laughs, shaking his head.  "SHIELD isn't interested until we can prove something nefarious is actually going on.  Natasha and Clint are overseas. Bruce doesn't have the temperament for this kind of undercover op and Tony and I, well."

"I know.  I know.  You're Steve and Tony.  Constantly in the limelight and no good for undercover.  I get it."  Sam gets up and heads to the kitchen, going through his fridge and making a mental inventory of the shit he's going to have to toss if he's going to be gone for any length of time.  

It's not much.

"It's not just that, it's that it's a marriage retreat, Sam - for troubled couples.  And while no one who read the tabloids would question us being at something like that, we aren't married.  So we don't qualify and everyone knows it."  Steve had followed Sam and is now leaning back against the counter with his arms folded across his chest looking like he's trying his best to achieve friendly encouragement rather than authoritative. "You guys have stayed completely under the radar as Avengers, your identities still completely secret and personal lives a mystery to everyone.  No one even knows what the two of you look like without your uniforms and masks."

Sam shuts the refrigerator and turns to give Steve one last, exasperated plea.

"Yeah, but Bucky?"

The damn mischievous smile he gets in answer makes Sam almost wish he had picked a different monument to run around the day they met.

Almost.

 

***

See, the problem isn't that Sam doesn't like Bucky, or that he thinks there's anything wrong or that Bucky can't handle it.

The problem is exactly the opposite.  

Sam does like Bucky.  Sam really likes Bucky.  They've been a constant staple in each other's lives for almost three years.  In the beginning he had crashed at Sam's place when things got to be too much, slept in his guest room more often than not for what felt like forever.  He talked to Sam - and he guessed it was because he was a damn good listener - about the things he was scared to bring up with Steve, about memories he wasn't sure of, about the things he feared about rejoining the world.  He told him the good things and the bad things, the terrors he remembered in broken bits and pieces from his decades of being a one man weapon of mass destruction.  

Each time he opened up, Sam fell a little bit harder.  

And felt guiltier about it every time. Because all he could think was that if he ever said anything, ever asked for anything more than the friendship they had developed, it would be taking advantage of Bucky in the worst way imaginable.

It was easier, after moving to New York and into the Avengers tower.  At least after that they had their own apartments, even if they were on the same floor.  Of course, that fact hadn’t stopped Bucky from constantly barging in on him, spending all his free time on Sam’s couch anyway, or stealing half of his food when he thought Sam wasn’t looking.

“Are you gonna help with these bags or what, Thomas?”  Bucky pulls a duffle out of the trunk and tosses it right at Sam’s chest which he catches with a roll of his eyes.

“Look, James, don’t be so damn pushy.  I’m barely even out of the car.”  He tosses it over his shoulder and watches Bucky discreetly check his flesh replica glove, tucked far underneath the long sleeve of his Henley.  His Henley that is just tight enough and unbuttoned enough to reveal way too much skin for Sam’s sanity.  Not to mention the fact that he’s in hip hugger skinny jeans and has his hair flipped off to the side with just a touch of product in it.

Steve may have rejected modern fashion but Bucky had embraced it whole heartedly.

Thank God.

Bucky laughs at him, slinging his own bag over his shoulder and heading towards the main hall.  He watches him go, biting at his bottom lip while he tries to look anywhere but at just how tight the man’s jeans actually are and failing miserably.

It’s going to be a long damn week.

***

The retreat is really a glorified summer camp, complete with way too fucking perky councilors and organized activities that make Sam want to gag.  Every couple has their own private cabin that’s decorated in such a way that makes him never ever want to see the ‘down home’ décor again in his life.

And they’ve only been there a few hours.

At least the entertainment sucks too.

Bucky is rolling his eyes at the poorly acted introduction film so hard Sam can almost feel it.  “I can think of about two dozen other things I would rather be doing right now than watching this shit.”

“Oh?”

Sam finds a heavy hand sliding down his thigh to rest at his knee, fingers playing around the joint in a teasing motion.  His gaze follows Bucky’s arm up to find a sly grin.  “Oh?”  He repeats, mouth going dry but keeping his cool.   They’re in the back of the room and the movie is loud enough that if they’re careful they won’t be heard.   Even still he leans in close, whispering just against Bucky’s ear.  “Like going to do an initial survey of the area?”

“I was thinking of just necking in the back row.”  Bucky replies with a smirk and a wink.

Sam is gonna kill Steve.

“We are supposed to be married, after all.”  Bucky tries again, squeezing the hand around Sam’s knee a little tighter, his words warm against his skin.

Swallowing, Sam shakes his head.  “With serious marriage issues, remember?”

“Oh come on.  Look at us and tell me we don’t have smoking hot hate sex after every single argument.”

Images of being pinned against a wall, of biting and bruising and holding limbs too tight, of sweat soaked hair and bodies moving together threaten to overtake him and full body shudder goes down Sam’s spine.

Luckily, the lights switch on before he can give himself away and Perky Councilor #8 starts talking at the front of the room.

“Don’t forget we have a job to do, Bucky.”  He says as evenly as he can manage before slipping just an inch to his left and out of Bucky’s grasp.

Sam doesn’t hear the frustrated sigh next to him.

***

By the second day they have a solid grasp on who is in charge, the lay out of the general camp, and have met and effectively schmoozed with the owner of the Retreat.  Bucky had laid on the charm pretty heavily which was a sight to behold, especially since a little over a year ago he would barely put two words together in front of someone he didn’t know and trust.  His smile was just as beautiful as always and Sam had to remind himself every couple of minutes they were there for a reason.

But the scheduled activities went on, and they have a cover to keep.

So, dancing lessons.

He’s pressed tightly against Bucky, their hands threaded together, Sam’s arm around his waist, moving with the instructors words and trying really very hard to ignore the absolute bullshit that is their ‘counseling’ suggestions for what to be thinking about while doing it.  Sam uses that term very loosely, as these people are about as qualified to being marriage counselors as he is to be a fucking ballerina.

“This is not dancing.”  Bucky laments for the third time with an eye roll.

“Be nice, James.  This is one of the reason’s we’re here.  You can never just get along and go with the flow.”

Bucky tuts and falls quiet for the rest of the song.  But when the next one starts with barely a pause he seems to have met his end.  He moves out of rhythm, pulling Sam with him and lowering his hand to rest low on Sam’s hip, fingers dancing just along the top of his ass.  “I can show you how to dance, baby.”

They move a little faster, to whatever rhythm is in Bucky’s head, stepping this way and that around the floor and around the other couples who are looking just as bored as they were mere moments before.  Sam goes with it, pushing out all the negative thoughts and the ‘shouldn’t’ and ‘cant’s’ and just enjoys himself for a brief period of time.  His body is guided around easily by Bucky’s, smiling and laughing like they were really a couple getting lost on the dance floor.

“It appears the Buchanan’s seemed to have figured everything out on their own.”

The condescending voice brings Sam’s high crashing down and their momentary escape from reality to a halt.

Sam clears his throat, purposely grabbing Bucky’s hand and putting it back on his shoulder where it belongs.  “Sorry, ma’am.”

She gives them a long, stern look, causing them both to shuffle back to the other side of the room and rejoin the ranks of mindless minions.

When they’re out of range and hopefully under the radar once again, Bucky leans in close.  “What was that ladies name again?”

“Madame Buzzkill.” Sam replies immediately, moving his hand down Bucky’s side just enough to rest at his hip instead of his waist and grinning widely.

Bucky’s laugh is such a beautiful sound.

 

***

Given that it’s a couple’s retreat it isn’t too terribly surprising there’s only one bed.  Very incredibly diplomatically they had decided they would switch.   The first night Sam took the bed while Bucky curled up on the love seat with an extra blanket.  It worked well.  Both were used to sleeping in worse circumstances and by the third night they were almost fighting over who got the privilege of sleeping in the love seat.  Because the bed was just awful.

But it’s Sam’s night for the bed so he had slipped in and fell asleep fairly quickly, knowing from experience that Bucky would be up for a good while longer, not needed nearly as much sleep as mere humans like Sam and pretty adamant about keeping an eye out for securities sake as long as he possibly could.

It wasn’t often that Sam still had nightmares anymore.  They were by no means unheard of but at least he’s gotten to the point where he can recognize what’s going on long before going into full blown panic mode.

That is, given a normal set of parameters of course.

His dream isn’t anything spectacular.  He wouldn’t even go as far as to classify it a nightmare really.  It’s more a hodge-podge of bad memories that he’s long since consciously dealt with and is just waiting for his sub conscious to catch up to the program.  But there are explosions and fights, a particularly nasty fall and the rapid beating of gun fire all around.  Something comes in contact with his face and Sam reacts one hundred percent on instinct, snatching whoever it is by the wrist and rolling under while tossing them over to the ground, following them down and pinning a well-built body down with his elbow trying to press against their throat.

The hand between his arm and his target is far more solid than it should be.

“Sam!  Hey!  Sam snap out of its just me.  It’s Bucky.”

He blinks, trying to adjust his vision in the darkness while his heart beats furiously in his ears.  “Buck?”  Sam doesn’t move though he releases a tiny bit of pressure from his arm.  “What the hell?”  His head is swimming, still trying to reconcile dream with reality and finally sits up, pressing his palms to his eyes a little harder than necessary.  As he slowly catches his breath there is a hand at his shoulder, gently squeezing and releasing in a careful, soothing motion.

“You alright?”

“Am I alight?  Jesus Bucky.  Why didn’t you toss me off I –“

“Reacted as I would have.  I didn’t want to hurt you and it was fairly easy to keep you from hurting me.  I shouldn’t have – “

“What are you doing up anyway?”  He drops his hands, barely listening to what Bucky is saying.  There is a look of concern in Bucky’s eyes though, just barely visible in the dim light of the moon from outside their window.  They’re both sitting now, Sam basically straddling Bucky’s lap but he’s still too wound far too tight to worry about that.

Bucky makes a frustrated noise, shaking Sam’s shoulder once before his hand moves just a little higher, callused thumb running soothing lines down the side of Sam’s neck.

Every stroke releases another thread of tension.

“I was out doing more recon.  Found something we need to check out.”

Sam tries to say something but he’s cut off by a single raised finger.

“In the morning.”  Bucky finishes pointedly.  “I’m sorry I woke you” He adds, almost a whisper.

Though Sam huffs a laugh there is no humor in it.  There are fingers sliding along his scalp now.  He rolls his head back into the touch, groaning as his eyes flutter closed.  “I’m gonna take the loveseat as compensation.”

“Fair enough.”  The words are quiet and warm, felt against the length of his neck as Sam feels himself drifting back, letting go and drowning in the comfort of the closeness.  But he can’t stay here.  Can he?

He’s almost forgotten why that is.

When Sam finally stands, drowsy and awkwardly shuffling away, he feels like he’s forgetting something, leaving something unfinished or behind at the very least.  Just as he’s falling back onto the loveseat he watches Bucky drop back as well, head and metal arm both landing on the ground with a loud sound of impact.

Sam yawns, curling up into optimum sleeping position for the small space.  “Aren’t you going to get back in the bed?”

“No.”

There’s another heavy thud followed by a long suffering sigh.  “I’m just gonna stay here forever.”

Though that seems peculiar, Sam’s out again before he gives Bucky’s strange behavior a second thought.

***

Bucky shows him what he found before breakfast – a small cabin hidden away in a copse of bushes and trees, impossible to find unless you’re looking for it.

Or just awesome, apparently.

They decide they’ll both check it out thoroughly at dusk, while most everyone is busy being social in the main hall but before it’s too dark to really see anything.

It’s another full day of horribly forced activities, made up excuses for bonding, and counselling sessions that should be intervened in by the American Psychological Association or something.

When the evening activity is announced, he wonders how these people get away with it.  It’s called Confessions and apparently involves sitting back to back answering prompts and questions their ring masters throw out about their early years together.  It’s supposed to bring back old memories and rekindle long lost feelings.  Reminding couples on the verge of hating each other why they used to get along seems like a horrible idea, especially given how much people can change in such a short span of time.  It seems to Sam that pointing out that they fell in love with a sense of humor that has long been snuffed out by years of internal struggle and heartache would kind of have the opposite effect of what they’re going for here.

But he doesn’t say anything.

Because Thomas Buchanan is a dentist.

A few of the couples tear up.  Some just look like they’re three hundred percent done with this whole farce.  Which is pretty close to how Sam feels.

Bucky though, Bucky looks oddly determined.  He’s got that tight lipped, straight forward stare he gets just before he goes into battle.  Sam gives him a wary smile and the look just grows more intense.

When they’re called up to the little podium he says something to Mr. Perky Councilor Number 13 who shakes his head.  “Sorry James.  Everyone else has done it, you can too.”

Though Sam doesn’t see the look Bucky gives the guy, he can imagine its terrifying.  Especially since not five seconds later he’s singing a completely different tune.  “Well, I suppose we could, make an exception?  If it means you promise to be completely honest and cooperative.”

Ten minutes later, confused and frowning at Bucky who is giving literally nothing away, Sam finds himself sitting in a quiet room with just his friend and one of the less annoying councilors.  No audience like the others had had.  She’s a lot less… intense… than any of the others and even though she still toes the party line, Lauren is incredibly forgiving.

She gets them set up like everyone else had been – back to back on a bench and goes through some trite promises not to interrupt or say anything while the other is talking.  Then they get started.

“Alright Thomas.  We’re going to start with something simple.  Tell us the first though you had when you met James.  What was going through your head?”

Sam blinks.

Talk about a loaded fucking question.

For a long time he considers the question and eventually decides, to hell with it.  He promised to be honest.

“I am so fucked.” He says flatly.

Lauren’s face flashes in confusion for the briefest of moments but otherwise remains the stoic expression of neutrality.

“Just that?”

“Oh there were quite a few more choice words but I don’t think they’re appropriate at the moment.”

“Right.  Well, James.  Your turn.  What is one thing that you learned early on about Thomas that you really…”  She takes a deep breath and makes an exaggerated gesture.  “…appreciated about him?”

Sam feels Bucky shake when he nearly snorts.  “It’s really hard to keep him down for very long.”  He can’t help the smile that cracks across his face and he shakes his head.

“So, he’s got a good outlook on life then?”

“Yeah sure.  That too.”

She marks something down in her notebook and turns to Sam again.  “How does James like his coffee?”

“That’s a stupid question.”  He frowns at her,  “I know how all of my friends like their coffee because I’m not a self-absorbed ass and I pay attention.”

Bucky coughs.  “Anthony.”

“Gentlemen.  Focus, please.  Thomas it’s a simple question with a simple answer.”

“Yeah.  And pointless.  It’s got absolutely nothing to do with anything.”

“You’re deflecting.”

With a smug grin he finally states.   “He likes it Black and Bitter.”  Which is totally true, hilarious for the present situations or not.

Bucky laughs again, nearly folding in half with the force of it.

“James.  How well do you think Thomas handles conflict?”  Ok that feels like it’s a pointed question and Sam can’t help but feeling a little offended for more than one reason.

“Why does he get the complicated ones?”  She gives him an exasperated look but doesn’t say anything.

“Like a well-trained and highly disciplined soldier.”  Bucky answers as if Sam hadn’t interrupted.

“Oh?  Can you explain?”

“He sees a problem, makes a judgment call, and just… you could say he just flies right in.”

It’s Sam’s turn to laugh.

“Do you appreciate that about him?”

“Oh it’s hot as hell.”

Lauren looks like she’s going to write something else down but stops, tapping her pen against her pad for a beat before finally looking up again with a sigh.  “Alright, Thomas.”  She sounds terribly put-upon.  “You wanted a complicated one?  How does – or did in the beginning if you feel like he doesn’t now – James express his love for you?  What is it that made you know, without question, that he felt the same way?”

Well.  Shit.  Sam blinks at her for a long time.  That kind of throws him, because he doesn’t have an honest yet bullshit answer for her.  He’s never thought Bucky felt the same way and even if he had dared to hope, like hell he was going to know how to spin it into something ridiculous.   

“Thomas?”

“I don’t know.”  He eventually gets out, quiet and looking down at his knees.  “I question every day whether or not he feels the same way I do.”  Lauren jots something down while looking towards Bucky.  Sam REALLY wishes he could see him right that second.

“Hm.  Okay.  We’re going to skip a few questions in that case.  James, can you tell me how you fell in love with your husband?”

There’s silence for a long span of time.  They’d been kidding around with her and each other for the most part but Sam feels like he had tilted everything in an odd direction.

“Go on, James.”

“I…  I don’t really know where to begin.  I mean, when we first met I hated him.”  Understatement.  “Well, I thought I did anyway.  It’s what I was supposed to do, what I was taught.  And then the second time we met I didn’t really… remember him?  But, he knows as well as I do how screwed up my life was then.  But somehow that didn’t matter to S- to Thomas.”  Bucky stops and Sam thinks he might be done, but apparently he’s just gathering his thoughts.  “He didn’t see me like almost everyone else did, he and, well, my best friend.  The two of them saw in me what I couldn’t even see in myself.  Still have trouble seeing to be honest.  And while both of them were there for me, Sam… you didn’t have any expectations ya know?”  He can feel Bucky shift behind him, like he’s trying to turn around so they can face each other.  Sam’s chest feels like its in a vice.  “It was like while everything kept pushing me in every direction you just opened up and said ‘I’m here if you need me’ and you were, not pushing or pulling or ever asking anything of me.  You always were there too.  No matter how messy or ugly it got, whenever I fell it was next to you.  And you didn’t just pick me back up, you let me figure it out on my own.  You showed me how it was done and let me pick myself up.  I’ll never be the man I was way back when, and God help me never be the one you first met, but, when I’m who I am now next to you, it seems like that’ll be enough.”

“Buck – “

“Ah ah ah Thomas.  It’s not your turn.  Let James finish.”

“No.  I think I’m done.”

She asks more questions after that, though Sam immediately starts his next answer off with a lie that Bucky will know without a doubt is false so he will understand that everything from that point on is just as bogus.  It’s hard to focus at that point, as he knows if he tries to veer off topic Lauren will just beat them back into place.  He can’t really think straight and his chest still feels heavy.

He’s going to murder Steve.

 

***

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Sam kicks the leg of the completely fucking empty desk in frustration.

As soon as their confession session had ended their window for investigating the cabin Bucky had found was already half over.  So they had put their fake relationship issues aside for later to focus on the matter at hand.  It was difficult, Bucky’s words running constantly through the back of his head – but they had a job to do.

Turns out though, it may have all been for nothing.

The little building is mostly empty, with only a filing cabinet, large wooden desk and waist high bookshelf – all empty.

“I’m starting to think the only evil thing going on here is horrible relationship advice.”  Bucky’s leaning back against the desk with his arms folded over his chest and one foot hooked around the other ankle.

Determined for their venture to have actually had a point to it, Sam drops to the ground and starts scanning the base boards and floor for some kind of secret hatch.  He makes the perimeter of the room before looking back over his shoulder.  “You gonna help or just stand there and look pretty?”

Bucky, who has been blatantly staring the entire time, smirks.  “No no.  You have this handled.  Please…” he gestures around the room.  “Continue.”

Before Sam can make a retort the sound of movement outside snatches both of their attention.  He’s on his feet in an instant and Bucky’s entire stance changes to rigid fight mode, shoulders tense, eyes alert and left arm forward.  He also no so subtly puts himself between Sam and the door.

“We’ve got to get out of here.”

“Can’t.”  Bucky ducks toward the window to try and spot their intruder.  He speaks quietly.  “Everything but the front door is sealed shut and they’re coming straight this way.”

“And what would you propose we do instead?”

“What the hell do you THINK a married couple trying to rekindle the flames would be doing in an abandoned cabin in the woods?”

“At this place?”  Sam snaps back.  “Killing each other most likely.”

Bucky looks momentarily like Sam has lost his damn mind.  But then that familiar look of determination takes over in the crease of his brow and the set of his jaw.  “Aw, Fuck it.”  He mutters, grabbing Sam by the front of his shirt and tugging him forward into a harsh and bruising kiss.

Startled as he may be, Sam is immediately with the program.

Even though no one ever comes, neither of them bother to notice.

He gets a firm grip into Bucky’s hair and surges up to meet him the rest of the way, parting his lips to deepen the kiss as their bodies melt against one another.  Warmth pools in his gut and he’s kissed senseless, fingers dragging down along the lines of his back.  Before he’s even aware they were moving he bumps against the desk.  Sam doesn’t pull away, just jumps up to sit on the surface with the help of Bucky’s hand that’s already gripping his ass.  All along his body his skin feels alive with energy, surging hotter with every move of Bucky’s lips against his own.

Its Bucky who breaks away first, though only to shift his focus from Sam’s lips to his jaw and neck.  “You…”  He starts between drags of his lips.  “Are the most infuriating man… I have ever met.”

Sam tilts his head to the side silently begging for more and shaking with the sensations pouring down his spine like warm water.  “Don’t know what you’re on about.”  He parts his knees and lets Bucky drag him forward, their hips meeting as Sam locks his ankles around Bucky.  Even with the layers of denim between them he can feel the hard bulge of Bucky’s cock rubbing against his own.  It stutters his breath and spurs his heart rate into over drive.  Hands and lips go everywhere, under shirts, along long lines of muscle, fingers scraping against scalps and down the ridges of each others spines. They’re lost to it, to each other.  Sam so wrapped up in what he’s ached for for so damn long that he can’t even remember any of his excuses.

He wants to tell him, confess how much he’s wanted him.

But it’s Bucky who steals his words right out from under his feet.

“Do you know…”  He speaks quietly, lips barely brushing against Sam’s ear and breath hot on his skin.  “How long I’ve wanted this?  Wanted you?”

He can’t help it.  Sam laughs.  Luckily Bucky doesn’t seem offended though, especially as he starts working the button and zipper of Sam’s jeans.  “You have no idea.”  Slowly his laughter dies down into small and catching gasps for air harder and harder to catch the more Bucky teases and touches him everywhere.  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You’re one to talk.”  Bucky answers a little flatly.

“Touché.”

Sam is so ready for this, all of this, but there’s still one thing that’s not quite right.  He grabs Bucky’s left hand, faux flesh glove still in place like it always is when they’re around the rest of the camp.  Bucky watches him carefully and seems to hold his breath.  “This though.  This has got to go.”  The glove comes off with a couple of tugs and he tosses it to the side, barely catching Bucky’s grin before he’s nearly knocked backwards with the force of his kiss.  Sam never wants this to fucking end, the feel of Bucky’s body against him, the way he tastes, the sounds he makes when Sam touches him, the jolts of pleasure that overtake Sam when it’s the other way around.  They’re moving so fast and so desperate for each other, so perfectly in synch that he almost forgets.

Almost.

“Buck…”  This can’t be all he gets, all he can have.  “Tell me this is more than just – “ he stops himself, worried about putting it all out there because if this was it, it would never be enough.  “More than just – “ He’s silenced with another kiss, far from the harshness of before and yet so much more in the gentle way Bucky comforts him with it and cradles his head.

“This is everything, Sam.”

And yeah, okay, Sam’s got a heart of mush and it’s just getting worse.  He’s a tough guy but even hardened soldiers need a safe place to crash.  “Good.  Good, I’m… good.”  

The smile on his face doesn’t go away for a long time.

For someone who – all things considered – only recently started willingly conversing with people again, Bucky talks a lot.  He says a mixture of the sweetest and filthiest things to Sam, everything he’s thought of and fantasized about, what he wants what he thinks Sam will like.  Sam drinks it up.  Every word goes straight to his dick, so much so that by the time they’re both free, Bucky’s hand wrapped around their lengths and sliding together, he’s having a hell of a time holding on to his control.

He slips his own hand between them to entwine with Bucky’s while his other is fisted in lengths of dark hair, guiding his head back so Sam can take his turn sucking and biting marks into the long lines of Bucky’s neck.  With the added attention and the energy boiling between the, Bucky’s words are reduced to desperate curses and quiet groans of pleasure.

“Sam – Sam I’m, Fuck!”

Sam leans back just enough to watch Bucky’s face as he comes, pinched and abandoned, completely lost to the world.  He spills hot and wet between them, rhythm failing with every pulse of his release and it’s the sexiest damn thing Sam has ever seen.  He’s right there on the edge with him, ready to follow Bucky over when he stops completely, dropping his head against Sam’s shoulder to catch his breath.

But Sam doesn’t have a chance to ask if he’s okay, to kiss him or say anything at all.  Because between one breath and the next Bucky sinks down to his knees and takes him in his mouth, to the hilt, in a quick and fluid motion.  Breath caught in his chest, Sam watches as his cock slips in and out of red, kiss swollen lips once, twice, and he is gone.

It’s like a cord deep in him snaps, releasing all the tension Bucky has been building up in Sam’s body all at once.  He thinks he curses, probably repeats Bucky’s name over and over until he is begging him to stop while somehow still hoping he never does.  When Bucky finally does release him he’s got a satisfied smile and seems to be savoring something before swallowing heavily.

“Fucking hell Bucky.”

He licks a thick, wet stripe up Sam’s abs, catching some of his own release in the process before surging up for another kiss.  The taste of them both on Bucky’s tongue is heady and Sam moans into the slow and languid kiss.

“So.  Everything you said?”  Once he can think straight again Sam hooks his arm around Bucky’s neck and holds him close, foreheads pressed together, occasionally stealing more kisses.

“God’s honest truth, Sam.  I just couldn’t figure out how to tell you.”

He almost feels like he’s dreaming.  “I thought it was just me.  That I was – I don’t know, that if I had said anything it wouldn’t be what you wanted or were ready for – I‘m an idiot.”

Bucky’s laugh is quiet and kind.  “No.  No, Sam.  You’re just a good man.  I don’t des-“

“Ah ah ah.”  Sam presses his fingers to Bucky’s lips and looks at him in earnest.  “Stop that right here, right now.  Bucky Barnes you have been through absolute hell and if anyone deserves some kind of good in their lives it’s you.”   He presses another kiss against Bucky’s tight pressed lips, feeling the tremble he’s trying to hold back.  “I’d like to be that for you as long as you’ll let me.”

For a moment Bucky is silent, slowly taking in a deep breath.  When he nods Sam’s chest feels infinitely lighter.

They lose track of time holding and kissing each other, Sam eventually leaning back to stretch, Bucky holding him while watching with a hungry stare.  He reaches back, holding on to the back edge of the desk to brace himself when something like a switch gives beneath his fingers and the floor immediately lurches and rumbles.

“Uh.”

“Fuck.”  Sam bolts up, looking around the room as it starts to sink.

“I’ve heard the saying about earth moving sex before but I didn’t think it was literal.”  Sam gives Bucky a flat stare and he adds, “Or this delayed.”

The walls around them seem to slowly rise up as they’re lowered in to the ground, sliding slowly down until the windows above are no longer letting in enough light to see by.

“We’ll finish this conversation after?”  Bucky asks while pulling his pants back into place.

“Yup.  But now it’s time to go to work.”

***

“Wait wait wait.  Stop.  Go back a second.  Why did you have your shirt off?”

Sam blinks.

He stutters.  “W- When did I say that?”

Steve grins like he knows something he shouldn’t.  Probably because outside of high adrenaline situations Sam has a terrible poker face.  “You didn’t.  But you did say you used it to steal some one’s gun, which to me implies it was no longer on your body.”

“Ok.  But that is completely beside the point.”  Sam deflects.  “The point is, the reason they were shitty relationship councilors was because they weren’t trying to fix marriages.  They were testing for people who would be a good fit for their “Noah” program for repopulating the Earth – susceptible to certain types of influences and in just bad enough of a marriage that they either wouldn’t be missed when they were taken or the first assumption would be that they split of their own volition.  They were TRYING to make some of those relationships worse.”  Luckily Sam and Bucky had taken down the entire operation after only a few people had been kidnapped.  Their plans had apparently called for a final number of over a hundred - who knows how long it would have been going on.  Getting the bad guys monologuing about their plans for world destruction and eventual repopulation had been laughably easy.

“Huh.”  Steve downs the rest of his juice then sets the glass down on the bar counter with a soft laugh.

“What?”

“Nothing.  Well.  It’s just I didn’t expect there to actually be anything shady going on, is all.”

For a moment Sam’s confused.  It had been Steve who insisted on an investigation in the first place.

His mouth falls open in shock though the moment the other shoe drops.

“You have got to be shitting me.  Does Bucky know you’re a no good, lying, busy-body?”

Sam could smack that smug smirk right off Steve’s face.  “One.  I never lied.  Two.  Yes.  He’s perfectly aware of that fact.”  He shrugs.  “Just not this particular instance of it.  I’d like to keep breathing for a few more years.”

The glare Sam gives him is half disbelief and half smug superiority because he could SO tell on him.

Apparently Steve figures that out.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Oh I so would.”

Even though he tries to look dead serious, Sam cracks a smile far too soon.  “You’re getting off easy this time, Rogers.  Of course, I’m either gonna kill you myself or throw you a damn parade.  Jury’s still out.”

Steve’s laugh is bright and easy.  “Tell you what – why don’t we call it even and you just promise not to break my best friend’s heart.”

Sam gives him a flat look.  “On what planet is that even?”

“Well.  I guess if you want to get technical about it it’s not.  But I’m fairly certain you’re getting the best part of this whole thing.”

Just then both of them have their attention drawn to the entry of the kitchen where Bucky shuffles in, bleary eyed and grumbling, sweats barely clinging to his hips and hair an absolute mess.  As he moves through the kitchen to get his coffee they both get a full view of his chest and back.  The scratches are somewhat faded but the bite marks on his neck and chest and finger bruises on his hips will be around for at least the rest of the day.  Sam can’t even find it in himself to blush but rather feels kind of proud.  Especially since he’s three hundred percent certain Bucky’s only forgone a shirt specifically to show off.

“Yeah.  Yeah I really am.”

He doesn’t see Steve’s reaction, too busy catching the way Bucky’s glancing at him sideways with a tiny smile of his own.  As soon as he has his coffee in hand Bucky turns and leans back, half against the counter half against Sam who can immediately feel the cold radiating from the metal of his arm.  Instead of moving away from it, without even thinking, he starts rubbing the cool skin where flesh meets metal with an open palm.  For a few quiet moments Bucky leans into the touch, neither seemingly aware they still have an audience.  But eventually, Bucky takes a deep breath.

“Hey, Steve?”

Steve doesn’t even look bothered.  “Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

He looks as surprised as Sam feels for a half a second before the look of shock quietly shifts to a fond and warm smile.

“Anytime, Buck.  Anytime.”

 


End file.
